


In Times of Trouble

by GladysJones



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, F/M, I don't want to mislead anyone - the main ship of this story is fredsythe, M/M, Slow Burn, Vietnam War, buckle up because this is going to be a wild ride, but all ships in the tags make an appearance at some point (some more frequently than others), fredsythe, parentdale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-07-10 08:30:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15945596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GladysJones/pseuds/GladysJones
Summary: On December 1st, 1969 the entire nation is gathered around their radios and televisions. Fred Andrews knows that sacrifices have to be made for the greater good, but that doesn't make him any less nervous as he waits for his date to be called. The draft would impact the entire country in many ways but for Riverdale it would set off a chain of events that could very well change the town forever.





	1. 12/01/1969: The Draft

_December 1 st, 1969_

It was one of those moments when time seemed to stop. All of Riverdale had shut down as families sat around their radios, still as statues and perfectly silent. At the Andrews’ house, both boys sat on the floor in front of their mother, Artie took his typical spot in the recliner. Their Christmas tree lights continued to blink next to them, decorated the day after Thanksgiving as tradition begged. Presents from neighbors had already begun to pile up underneath. It was almost picturesque had it not been for the ghostly expressions that plagued everyone’s face.

The unmistakable voice of Roger Mudd came over the radio. “Good evening. Tonight, for the first time in 27 years, the United States has again started a draft lottery.”

He began to narrate the scene, an ordinary room stuffed full of notable congressmen and military officials who had already made their sacrifices for the country. Nameless figures shuffled in carrying large boxes, the contents of which rattled angrily with every step. Time dragged on as the voice described the blue capsules that had been shaken in a shoebox and unceremoniously poured into a large glass container. Bunny had one hand placed on Fred's shoulder, the other on Oscar's. Her grip tightened as Lewis B. Hershey was introduced and began to speak.

"Pursuant to the executive order, the Director of Selective Service is going to establish tonight a random selection sequence for induction for 1970. I will ask Congressmen Pirnie to come forward." Fred reached up and squeezed his mother’s hand as Lieutenant General Hershey continued to talk. “Congressmen Pirnie is representing the United States of the Military Affairs committee of the house…”

“It’ll be okay.” He reassured her.

“…and we’re going to ask him to choose the first one.”

There was a sound of the capsules rustling as Pirnie reached into the container. The entire nation held their breaths as he pulled one out and passed it onto someone else. The radio crackled as a deep voice vibrated throughout the house. "September 14th."

There was a perfect moment of silence. One last steady breath was taken before everything came crashing down in a pile of rubble and brick. Bunny let out an ear-piercing cry and fell to the floor between her sons.

"No." She lunged towards her youngest. Her grip so tight that he could have sworn she would leave bruises. "They made a mistake. This is a mistake."

Another voice came over the radio to confirm what they had just heard. “September 14 - 001.”

They couldn't have anticipated this. The chance was only half a percent that his or Oscar's date would be called first. But sometimes life defied the odds even when you wished that it wouldn’t. 

"Mom, it's okay." He rubbed her back as her body shook. His dad had warned both his sons about this moment. _You could be first, you could be last, or any number in-between. Either way, your mother is going to take it hard. When your date is called,_ _you stay strong for her_. Of course, no one had actually anticipated that either of them would be called first. 

"You have a job. You help provide for the family." She tried to reason, head still buried in Fred's shoulder - her voice muffled by his sweater. "They should take that into account, right?"

"I don't know. I'm sure we'll find out more later." He met his father's gaze, his eyes pleading for the right thing to say. Artie gave him a nod of reassurance.

"It was wrong of them to do this so close to the holidays." Bunny sat back and wiped her tears. 

She pursed her lips together and ran shaking fingers through Fred's hair. He reached up and held his mother's hand while leaning into her soft touch. He hoped she couldn't tell he was shaking too.

Artie broke the silence with a clear of his throat. "They're still drawing. We need to listen for Oscar's date."

Fred tried to focus on the rest of the program. He repeated two dates in his head trying to distract himself from the fact that his had already been called. _April 1 st. November 3rd._

Before long April 1st was called and Bunny let out another sniffle and whimper. This time she turned her attention turns towards Oscar. His face turned an ashen grey and he swallowed hard, before looking up at her. “We’ll be alright, Mom.”

They continued listening to the rest of the broadcast. _July 25 th_. _April 18 th_. Fred let out a breath every time the date wasn’t read. _July 16 th. November 14th. February 17th._ Once they got past the first 200, he started to worry again. Had he missed it being called? But it comes eventually, towards the end. “November 3 – 348.”

“June 6 – 366.” June 6th, the date sounded familiar, but Fred couldn’t remember why. Maybe it belonged to one of his classmates. The radio buzzed with static for a moment before the signal picked back up as a voice explained the next steps in the draft. Men would be contacted first for a physical, and then for training. Physicals would begin after the new year in January or February.

"That’s so soon." Bunny dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. The man's voice droned on over her sniffles. "Turn it off, Arthur. I can't bear to hear any more of this."

They didn’t dare move. The had to let the moment sink in. Until that night the Andrews’ had a clear vision for their future, but that was shattered the second the war’s reality struck them. Bunny was the first to move. She stood up, brushed off her dress and turned to her boys as if she was seeing them as men for the first time.  “I need to go lay down. I’ll see you in the morning. Artie?”

The older man got up and wrapped an arm around his wife, he gently escorted her towards their room. Fred shot up from the floor the second their door shut. He had been strong for her, he had kept that promise to his father but now it was just him and Oscar. He didn’t have to pretend anymore. He allowed his own emotions to finally surface. He thought about the horror stories that had already began making their way back to the US, was he capable of killing someone? What if his life depended on it? His stomach churned at the thought. "I’ll be back.”  
  
Fred didn't even bother grabbing his jacket before he ran out the door. He barely made it down his front steps before heaving into the snow. If any of the stories were true, he would need a tougher stomach once he got to the jungle.  
  
Fred wiped a shaking hand across his mouth. He could hear a woman crying from one of the neighboring houses. What number was her child? Fred wondered. Did the blue of the capsule match the color of the bonnet she had knit for him as a baby?  
  
He took off running towards the forest behind his house. He ran and ran until he was out of breath and the only light that illuminated the area came from a clearing that the waning moon danced in.

 _Fuck_. He kicked a tree. _Fuck_. _Fuck_. He kicked it again and again until he wondered if his sock was soaked with blood. He kept his promise to his father, but now…a primal sound comes out of him as he thrusts his foot against the tree one last time before falling to its base in hysterics. “I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready.”

Fred imagined his old school mates. Were their mothers crying at the thought of their sons going to war? Were they hugging them right now, relieved that their numbers were called towards the end? Or had they exhausted themselves from crying when their sons were called in the first few numbers? Did any of that matter in the end?  
  
He stayed there for at least an hour. Eyes glued to the night sky, he let his mind wonder. What would life look like a month from now? Did the stars burn as bright as an M2A1-7? Was there such a thing as solitude when death could come knocking at any moment?

He wouldn’t know the answers until he got there, but he still had control now. It was still his life. He stood up and began walking back towards the house. He was not going to waste his time sitting in a damp forest, when he could be in the comfort of his own bed. He was going to appreciate every moment he had within the safety of his home.

As he approached his street he recognized a familiar figure standing at the end of his driveway.

"Always have to be number one, huh Freddie?" FP was leaning against his motorcycle, smoke gallantly rising from his cigarette. "Don't worry. I'm not letting them send you there alone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining me on this roller coaster. This is an idea that I've been playing with for awhile because I love a historical AU. Shout out to Julia (ao3: jugheadjones) for being my soundboard for a lot of these ideas and for indulging me in all my Parentdale headcanons. There are a lot of characters and a lot of relationships in this story. I don't want to give anything away, but if you've come for something specific, it might be awhile before you see it and it could be just a fleeting moment. The characters from this chapter will be the core group throughout the entirety of this story. 
> 
> This is my first Parentdale story, so feedback is greatly appreciated.


	2. 12/01/1969: The Diner

Fred shivered as he made his way up to FP. “How long have you been waiting?”

“I started driving the second I heard my own number called. Oscar told me you went out.” His thumb scratched at his eyebrow as he balanced the cigarette between two fingers. "This is shit."  
  
"Yeah." He sat down on the wooden swing Artie had built for him when he was just a kid, his legs pushed slightly against the ground. He watched as FP stomped his cigarette into the dirt before picking up the stub and putting it into his pocket.

“My mom is going to kill you if she finds out that you’re smoking again.”  
  
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I have to take the evidence with me.” Their eyes met for a moment, a shared smile that made them forget why FP had come over in the first place. He furrowed his brow when reality sunk in. "Oh, fuck, Fred – how is Bunny?"  
  
"Not good." Fred shoved both hands in his pocket and shrugged. “You know how she was when Dad got his diagnosis? It was just about the same reaction. She was inconsolable and then she was nearly comatose.”

FP nodded, and Fred shivered again. “You’re an idiot for going out without a jacket.”

“Yeah. Wasn’t really thinking.” He rubbed his hands up and down his arms hoping the friction would produce some heat.

“Which is exactly why you can’t go off to war by yourself.” He shimmied off his own jacket and wrapped it around Fred’s shoulders. “Here.”

“I don’t really have much of a choice, F.” He tightened it around himself and relaxed as the warmth began to seep in. “Now you’re going to freeze.”

“I’m going to enlist.” FP ignored his last sentiment.

“What?” Fred shook his head. “That’s dumb. Even if you did, there’s no guarantee we would be in the same unit. Let alone the same branch.”

“It’s worth a shot. I can’t let you go there alone, Fred.” FP lit another cigarette and tried to trick his mind into thinking it could provide him with warmth. He hadn’t realized how cold it was. “Besides, there’s nothing for me in Riverdale if you’re not here.”

“What about the Serpents?”

FP can’t help but laugh. “I never thought I’d see the day Fred Andrews was defending the Serpents.”

“I’d rather you be in a gang than dead.” The words strike hard. The reality of the war coming into focus. Somethings were never spoken about in Riverdale. Boys, dressed up like men, headed into war, but some of them never came home.

“I’m not going to die over there, and neither are you.” FP placed a hand on Fred’s shoulder and for a moment they were back in high school. Stolen glances in the locker room. Electricity as the spun bottle landed on Fred. Late night trips into the forest. The front door opened, and FP quickly removed his hand.

“Are you two coming in?” Artie appeared in the doorway, a glass of bourbon in hand. How long had he been watching them?

Fred stood up immediately. He would make a great soldier. “No sir, we’re going to head over to Pop’s.”

“Mr. Andrews.” FP greeted with a nod.

“Forsythe.” FP and Artie were always cordial but as he and Fred grew closer, Artie grew colder. “Fred, take that thug jacket off. Your mother would have a heart attack if she saw you wearing it.”

“Yes sir.” Fred immediately stripped the leather jacket off himself and handed it back to FP. “I’ll be right back.”

Fred ran back into the house as FP shrugged his jacket back on. Artie closed the door behind him. “Good night.”

 _Fuck_. He was alone with his thoughts for the first time that night. He hadn’t had a second to think straight since he had first heard Fred’s date get called. The Serpents had gathered at the Whyte Wyrm earlier that evening, they had turned the draft into another excuse to drink. His entire body went numb the second he heard September 14 th. _Fuck_. And then, as if he had been electrocuted, the adrenaline jump started his heart. The blood rushing to his head was deafening as he tried to hear the other numbers. Everything had been a muted blur. He hadn’t even realized his own had been called until someone clasped a hand on his back and offered him a shot of whiskey. He downed it and then took off out the door.

The ride to Fred’s wasn’t long but he stopped halfway there to collect himself. The last thing Fred needed was to see him upset.

“Hey.” A gentle hand on his arm brought him back to reality. “You ready?”

FP nodded. “Truck or bike?”

Fred thought for a minute as he rocked back and forth on his left foot. “Truck. Lefty says it’s going to rain later…wait…” he twisted his ankle around some more. “…actually, maybe it’s going to snow…”

FP laughed. “There’s not a cloud in the sky.”

“Can’t argue with it.” Fred shook his head. He had sprained his ankle junior year of high school and was convinced that he could now predict inclement weather. FP refused to admit that he was usually right.

“Alright. Let’s take your truck.” FP conceded a little disappointed. He liked the way Fred’s arms wrapped around him on the bike. The tightening grip around his waist as they went over a bump or made a sharp turn. The warmth of Fred’s breath on the back of his neck. But tonight - he didn’t care how they got there, he just wanted to be comforted in the familiarity of Pop’s diner as soon as possible.

 

* * *

 

 

They weren’t the only ones who sought refuge at Pop’s. The place was packed with the familiar faces of their former classmates. It was a safe place. No one there was going to force you into a war that you didn’t necessarily believe in.

Alice, Penelope, and Hermione were already sitting at their regular table. The group of friends had a habit of occupying the same two booths. They were perfectly located towards the back corner, away from the steady stream of customers.

 “Hey.” Penelope said softly as she stood up from the booth. She wrapped her arms around Fred and gave him a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry.”

“Do you think everyone knows?” Fred asked as he slid in next to Alice. He could sense that several people were staring in their direction. FP grabbed a nearby chair and swiveled it around so that he could sit backwards. His legs spread over either side, his arms balanced over the back of it.

Penelope sighed with a nod. “Are you surprised, Fred? You know how news spreads in Riverdale.”

“Speaking of news…” Hermione could see that Fred was growing increasingly uneasy over the attention. “Alice was just telling me that she heard from Hal.”

Her eyes lit up as she pulled out a letter from her bag. “As a matter of fact, I did!”

“Is that a ‘Dear Jane’ letter?”

“Shut up, FP.” She snarled at him as she unfolded the paper.

 

_My darling Alice,_

_I hope this letter finds you well._

_Things aren’t so bad here. Some days are better than others but not one goes by that I don’t think of you. I miss you more than you could possibly know. Your smile, your eyes, the smell of your hair after a shower. I dream of the day that I get to hold you in my arms again._

_I’ve put in for leave and hope to see you soon. Things happen at a different pace here though. I don’t know when it will get approved. Sometimes things are painfully slow, and other times it feels like we’re stuck on a 78 RPM record._

_With any luck I’ll get to see you before the new year. Keep sending letters._

_With all my love,_

_Hal_

_P.S._

_I got your pictures in the mail. You have no idea how beautiful you are, Alice._

 

“Must be talking about a different Alice.” She reached across the table and swatted FP with the letter. Fred stifled his laugh under a cough.

“Oh, it’s a joke. It really is a sweet letter, Alice.” Fred smiled and turned towards Penelope. “Have you heard anything new from Clifford?”

“No.” Penelope shook her head and looked down at her dress. She straightened out a wrinkle and looked up with a stoic smile. “I’m sure he’ll write when he can. Law school keeps you busy, you know?”

The conversation continued but FP’s focus changed to the rest of the diner. There were groups of teens and young adults munching on fries and drinking milkshakes. From the outside, it looked like an ordinary Monday, but he could hear the conversations. Old classmates were comparing draft orders like they used to compare baseball cards. Fred was the first to notice the blank expression on his face. “Hey. You okay, F?”

“Yeah. I just need to get some air.” He walked outside and pulled out the flask from his back pocket. Something small and white caught the corner of his eye. He looked up and watched as snowflakes began to gallantly fall towards the earth.


	3. 12/06/1969: The Flame

The hood of the truck slammed shut and Fred watched as FP whipped out a handkerchief from his back pocket. He rubbed his hands on either side, trails of black grease remained in their shadows. “Hey, thanks for coming over, F.”

“Of course.” he nodded as his stuffed the cloth into his back pocket. “Not sure why you needed me though. You would have done fine by yourself.”

Fred knew that, they both did, but he needed an excuse to get him over to his place and FP was never one to turn down an invitation to the Andrews’ house. Bunny never let him stop by without cooking one of his favorite dishes and she always made sure to make some extra for him to take home. Wherever _home_ was that week. “Just needed a second opinion on the brake pads.”

FP nodded along to the lie. Fred Andrews wasn’t exactly the type of guy who waited for second opinions. He usually executed his plan and looked back on it retrospectively. In high school many teachers had blamed FP for pranks that had actually been all of Fred’s doing and the only reason they had been caught was his lack of preparation.

He once painted his entire truck red because Hermione made on off handed remark about how girls dug that color. It wasn’t until later when Oscar got home and wrestled Fred to the ground for using house paint on _his_ car, that he questioned whether or not it was a bad idea. And it was only a few days after that, when Hermione kissed him underneath the bleachers, that he concluded the rugburns had been worth it.

“You should stay for dinner.”

“Yeah, sure.” FP nodded as if it wasn’t something inherently agreed upon solely by his presence at the house. “That would be great.”

Fred smiled and eased his tension with a deep breath. He needed this. He needed these moments of normalcy to combat the draft order that loomed over his head like a time bomb. “I think Mom is making a roast.”

Actually, Fred had begged his mother to make one. He knew FP could never turn down one of Bunny’s famous roasts.

He walked a few steps towards the house before he realized FP was still glued to the concrete. “Hey, uhh…before we go inside…”

Fred’s face dropped. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s _wrong_.” FP returned defensively. He sat down on the cement ledge that separated the Andrews’ yard from their neighbors. He rested his head in his hands for a moment before looking up. “I just…I wanted you to know that I went down to the Army recruiting station. Just to get some info.”

“Okay.” Fred nodded. His ears rang as he swallowed hard against the fire burning in his throat. He hadn’t thought FP was serious about enlisting. A lot of things were said in the heat of the moment that night. “And…?”

“And…well...I think I’m going to do it…” His eyes were fixed on a patch of brown grass. He couldn’t look up at Fred. “There are a lot of benefits to joining now. A lot of reasons that would make sense for me to do it.”

“Yeah, and twice as many reasons for you not to do it.” Fred bit coldly. FP’s head snapped up and he locked eyes with Fred.

“Like what?” A spark had been ignited and Fred knew there was no going back.

“Don’t be stupid, F. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” If FP was a wildfire, Fred was a snow storm. Its unassuming gentle nature allowed people to forget about the black ice that it brought. “Some guys don’t come back. And the ones that do…you’ve seen them….they’re not right after. We all know it, but no one is saying it. If I didn’t have to go…hell, you know I wouldn’t.”

“Our lives aren’t the same. I don’t have the same luxuries you do, Fred. Remember what your dad said the other night? I’m a thug. If I stay in Riverdale, I stay in the Serpents. That’s it. I’m with them ‘til I die.” FP shook his head. The thought was overwhelming. “…but the Army…I’d have a shot of getting out of here…out of the Southside. Don’t you want that for me?”

“Of course, I do.” Fred heard what he was saying. He really did. But the image of FP crawling through thick brush, his face camouflaged with mud and grass…it was too much. He placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “…there’s got to be another way out of here. You just can’t join the Army, F.”

“Well, it’s not really your choice is it?” He shrugged Fred off and jumped down from the cement divider, his palms scrapped against the rocky ledge. He ran a hand over his face, the smallest trace of blood followed. He shook his head and gestured towards his bike. “I just remembered, I have a thing to get to tonight.”

Fred stood in silence as FP turned his back and walked towards his bike. By the time Fred had an idea of what he wanted to say, he was already being drowned out by the roar of FP’s motorcycle as it flew down the street.

When Fred entered the house looking defeated, Bunny was setting the table for five. She paused. “Was that FP’s bike that I heard?”

“Yeah.” Fred nodded his head as he plopped down in his usual seat. She tsked.

“He’s been wearing his helmet at least, hasn’t he?” She picked up the fifth plate and placed it back in the cupboard. “I just worry about him sometimes.”

 “Yeah.” He answered mindlessly. “Me too.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Time trudged on that winter. Snow covered the banks of Riverdale like bodies on a battle field. Families gathered for holiday feasts and tried to repress the feeling of impending uncertainty. Holiday parties had all but turned into going away parties, a haunting fact that nobody dared acknowledge.

Hermione, who insisted that her friends needed some cheer, had elected to host one of her own at Hiram’s estate. An invite only soiree that gave Fred an excuse to go out and buy a new tie. He found one that matched the color of Oscar’s truck. Hermione would love it, and Fred loved doing anything that might get under Hiram’s skin.

“Thanks for having everyone over.” Fred said when she opened the door to the house. Her dark hair was curled loosely at the ends, a few strands were pulled away from her face and pinned to the sides.

“Fred - you look amazing!” She kissed him on the cheek as Hiram cleared his throat from behind her.

“Hiram.” He smiled with a curt nod, the edges of his lips turned up into a boyish grin as he tried not to play his hand too much. FP was going to love hearing about this.

“Fred.” Hiram stuck out his hand which Fred grasped without hesitation. Their holds tightened by the second.

A sudden bang coming from the other room instantly pulled them apart. Fred smiled as he watched Hiram carefully recoil and stretch his fingers out. After years of playing guitar and tuning up the Shagin’ Wagon, Fred’s grip was a point of pride.

“Should I go check on that?” Hiram dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand.

“Don’t worry. I always put the fine china away before we invite any bulls into the shop. So, Hermione told me you got the first date.” Hiram shook his head while she gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Fred.”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” Fred placed a hand on Hiram’s shoulder as he moved around him. He wasn’t interested in making small talk. He needed to finish the conversation he had started with FP two weeks ago. “Excuse me.”

 Hiram’s voice halted him. “He’s not here.”

“What?” Fred turned around.

“The person you’re looking for? FP?” Hiram answered casually. “He’s not here.”

“Oh, Fred.” Hermione’s eyes softened as she placed a tender hand on his arm. “I thought he would have told you first.”

“Told me what?” He inhaled sharply as his fingers went numb. His whole body felt like it had been plunged into a bath of ice. He stumbled backwards barely catching himself on the wall behind him.

That’s the problem with fires. Once they’re ignited, they’ll burn by themselves.


	4. 12/18/1969: The Plan

FP curled in on himself tighter as his body convulsed with an involuntary shiver. He pulled the thin blanket further up his body so that only his head was exposed. He was no stranger to sleeping in odd places, but this was definitely one of the more uncomfortable ones to be during a cold wave. The Shaggin’ Wagon was his home on many occasions, and he was grateful for the shelter, but that didn’t change the fact that the metal frame was a furnace during summers and an ice box during winters. It was a miracle that he ever managed to fall asleep in there at all.

It had to be just after midnight when the sound of frozen metal scrapping against itself startled him awake. The door to the van flew open and the icy air hit FP seconds before a pair of strong hands grabbed him by the collar and hauled him to a seated position. “You idiot!”

He frantically kicked back at the intruder, the night sky making it impossible to see if he was actually causing any damage. The only thing going through his mind was that his dad must have gone out looking for him to finish the job. FP didn’t take a moment to think, his fight or flight instincts kicked in at full force, and he swung again at the other person who then wrapped their arms around him so tightly it felt like they were trying to suffocate him.

FP writhed disoriented and confused until he took in the scent of strawberry shampoo. He knew that smell, it was all he could think about on the nights he was alone. He went to wrap his arms around the person, but he found himself suddenly being pushed away. “What the hell?”

“You idiot…” But the tone was different than before, the voice is shaky and clouded with tears. “You were going to leave.”

“Fred…” FP reached for his hands, but Fred pulled away before he could touch him.

“Don’t.” Fred shook his head as he backed out of the van. “You were going to leave without saying goodbye. You’re a coward.”

“No, wait – ” FP slid out of the car as Fred paced in the snow, “I wasn’t.”

Fred stopped in his tracks. “Hermione said…”

“Hermione says a lot. You know she loves to gossip.” FP rubbed a hand through his curly mop and used the other to gesture towards the empty distance. “She and Hiram drove by me this morning. Probably saw the bag I was carrying and thought I was leaving town.”

“I looked everywhere for you. I thought you left me. I thought…”

“Hey, stop.” FP reached for Fred’s hands and this time he doesn’t pull away. “I would never leave you.”

“Jesus…” Fred froze, his voice tender as he gently moved his hand to touch FP’s cheek. Now in the streetlight he could see the marks on his face. “What happened to you?”

FP bowed his head trying to avert Fred’s gaze. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Your dad?” He waited for an answer, but the silence told Fred everything he needed to know. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Stop.” FP grabbed Fred’s arm. “It was my fault.”

“D-don’t, don’t say that.” Said Fred, his frustration blinding. The situation at the Jones house was bad enough, but the way Senior made FP feel responsible for the abuse drove Fred over the edge. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s okay, Fred.” His eyes pleaded in a language that Fred would never understand. “I’m okay.”

He wasn’t going to push the subject if FP didn’t want to talk about it. Fred nodded as a shiver ran through his body. “It’s freezing out here.”

“Come on.” A gentle pull of his arm eased Fred back into the van behind FP. He shut the door behind them, sequestering them into the sanctuary that they had built together just a few summers before.

“Jesus, F.” Fred shook his head as he exhaled into his hands before rubbing them together. “It’s just as bad in here too.”

“It’s not much but it blocks the windchill at least.” FP blushed. He hated speculating what Fred thought of him. _Really_ thought of him. He was a bastard hood who barely had a place to call home. A far cry from the family dinners and Christmas carols that Fred grew up with.

“Why didn’t you just come to my house?”

“I don’t know. We’re not kids anymore.” FP shrugged. “Just seems like we’re a little old for sleepovers.”

There were many nights that he thought about going over to the Andrews’ house. Nights that he pictured sitting around a warm fire, playing cards with Fred and Oscar while Artie smoked a pipe and Bunny brought them hot chocolate. Where Fred was more than a forbidden thought and FP could be like Sally, Janice, or any of the other girls that Oscar brought home. When sleeping in Fred’s room didn’t involve tiptoeing over to his bed and crawling in next to him once everyone else had fallen asleep. A different time, a different town, a different life and every night could have been like that.

“You’ll freeze out here by yourself.” Fred took some of the clothes out of FP’s bag and piled them into something resembling a pillow. He laid himself down against the floor of the van, resting against a shirt he recognized as his own. “Come here.”

FP tentatively moved into a laying position as he slowly let his body melt into the curve of Fred’s figure. Fred’s arm draped over him created more warmth than any blanket ever could. They wouldn’t talk about it in the morning, they never did, but for now their two bodies pressed together was everything. It always was.

“When I was looking for you earlier, I started thinking…” FP felt Fred’s breath tickle the back of his neck.

“That’s never good.” FP laughed.

“I’m serious, F.”

“Okay.” FP turned around so that he could face Fred.

“If I can’t convince you to quit this suicide mission of yours, the least I can do is to make sure we’re together.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If I enlist, I can choose my branch. We’d be going at the same time…” Fred tucked a long strand of hair behind his ear. “I started thinking about it when I couldn’t find you earlier but now that I’m here…I’m sure of it. I think I should enlist too.”

There were a million thoughts running through his head. He wanted to argue with Fred, any second out of the jungle was another minute that he was safe, but he was right. It was their best chance of being together. There was nothing that would protect Fred from ending up there, the only thing he could do was be there alongside him. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“When?” The question caused Fred’s body to tense.

“I need to talk to my parents, but I’m thinking next week.” FP felt him shiver but he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or nerves. “FP. I also wanted to say. If you’re having second thoughts about –”

“I’m not.” He was quick to interrupt. “Just promise me one thing…don’t tell Hermione just yet.”

“Why?”

FP smiled. “She’ll make it about her. Probably use it as an excuse to throw a party.”

He wasn’t expecting a roar of laughter but the smile that he got from Fred helped them both feel more at ease. “I promise. I’ll wait until we’re all packed up.”

FP knew it was mostly in his head, but despite the weather outside getting colder as the night trudged into early morning, he felt unexplainably warmer than before.

 

* * *

 

 

When Fred walked into the house, he was hit with an unignorable pang of dejavu. It had been less than ten days since he had been to Hermione’s last party; the same night he thought that his best friend had left town without him. Now FP stood by his side as they prepared to leave together. Two days. They only had two days left in Riverdale.

“The guests of honor.” The air in the house was different. It felt heavy and thick. Others must have been feeling it too because all the windows had been pushed open and the fans were rotating slowly above their heads. Hiram looked down at his watch. “...And only an hour late, I think that’s a new record.”

Hiram was dressed in a Madras shirt tucked into a pair of high rise khakis that showed off his polished brown loafers. A blue sweater hung loosely over his shoulders; the sleeves tied together just below his neck. FP looked down at his own outfit, a pair of worn pants cuffed just above his work boots and an old jean jacket covering up a shirt with the fab four that Fred had given him a few years back. “Didn’t realize this was a formal gathering or I would’ve dressed up.”

“It isn’t.” Hiram cocked his head to the side. “Anyways, Hermione will be glad to see that you’re both here. At least we know Fred isn’t going to book it this time. There are drinks in the kitchen - go easy on them.”

Fred and FP walked towards the living room. “At least Hiram isn’t treating us any different.”

“Always one to find a silver lining.” FP laughed. “I don’t know about you, but I think we deserve a free brew. You want one?”

“No, I’m good.” Fred shook his head. FP gave him a timid smile before walking away.

A hand wove its fingers through Fred’s long hair and gave it a gentle tug. “You know they’re going to make you cut this off, right?”

“I know.”

“Real short. Like a proper soldier.” Alice brushed her fingers through the loose waves, pulling slightly when they caught a knot. “I’ll miss it.”

She swayed uneasily and Fred took in the glossed look of her eyes. He had known Alice long enough to tell when something was wrong. “You okay?”

“Are any of us?”

Hermione clinked her glass as she drew in everyone’s attention. Hiram lent his hand as she jumped up onto the coffee table. Her kitten heels clicking against the cherry wood.

“Thank you for coming tonight. As you know some of our own will be headed off to defend this country in the new year. Some will head out even before that. Tonight, is all about celebrating our youth and honoring the sacrifices that our generation is having to make to support a generation that doesn’t give a shit about us.” Some people cheered while others nodded their heads in solidarity. Her words were slurred, and Fred guessed she had been drinking long before anyone had ever shown up at the house. “You know. This whole thing is bullshit.”

“ _Mi amada_ …” Hiram whispered as he gently pulled on her hand.

“No, let me finish.” Hermione snatched it back out of his grip. “It is bullshit…this is...it’s fucked. Haven’t we sacrificed enough? I mean, how many of the men in this town are going to have to leave – are going to die –?”

“Alright.” Hiram jumped up on the table and Hermione curled into him. Even though the sound was muffled by his sweater, Hermione’s tears were audible in the nearly silent room. “Let’s raise a glass to those who aren’t here with us tonight, and to those who are going to be joining the service soon. Thank you.”

As Hiram got off the table and Hermione carefully followed, the talking began to slowly pick back up.

“Some speech.” FP walked up behind Fred. “Hey, Alice.”

“Hey yourself.”

Hermione’s words hung heavy on Fred’s mind. He wondered how many of the people standing there that night would be there when they got home. It had only been a few years since they had graduated, and the population of Riverdale already felt like it was shrinking exponentially with each passing day. “I’ll be back.”

Fred maneuvered his way through the crowd and out the looming front door. The chill instantly settled deep into his bones making his left ankle throb. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to leave his house or his friends or this stupid, small town. He wasn’t ready for everything he loved to be suddenly taken away from him. The wind stung his eyes as they began to pool. He rubbed at his arms hoping the friction would create some heat. His mother would kill him if she saw he wasn’t wearing a jacket.

“You trying to cut out early?”

Fred turned around and quickly smiled at the two girls approaching from the other side of the block. Even from down the street it was easy to recognize the pair of redheads. If they asked, he would blame the redness of his face on the cold. “Just needed some air. You two have missed the start of a great gig so far.”

“Oh yeah?” Mary raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Hermione give another one of her blitzed speeches or did we already miss the part of the night where FP breaks a Lodge family heirloom?”

“No, nothing broken yet.” Fred laughed but he could feel both girls giving him a once over. It’s how everyone had looked at him since the night of the draft. “So uh, you going to tell me where you two have been?”

“Sorry, Fred, I didn’t realize you were our keeper.” Mary was warm but strong, she fired back at Fred in a way that most people didn’t. The two of them were once pitted against each other in a class debate that lasted far longer than the teacher had intended. She was strong and fearless, and she had been like that since they were kids. He had always admired that about her.

“I got a collect from Clifford when we were leaving the house.”

“How’s he doing?” When most people found out that Clifford Blossom had enrolled in law school, it wasn’t long before half the town started to call him a draft dodger, but Fred hadn’t been so quick to judge. He wasn’t particularly friends with the guy, but he didn’t see a reason to start spreading rumors. Besides, from what he knew about the Blossoms it was easy to assume that they had been planning this part of his life since before Clifford was even born.

“Good, he should be home in a few weeks. I’m sure he’d love to see you.” Penelope smiled, but her face suddenly dropped when she realized her mistake. “Oh. I’m so sorry, Fred. I didn’t mean…”

“No, no, it’s okay. Just tell him I said hi.” Fred smiled and dismissed her worry with a shake of his head.

“Do you want to go back inside?” Mary suggested. “I don’t want to miss anything else exciting.”

Fred held the door open for both girls but before she walked in Penelope stopped and placed a hand gently over the left side of Fred’s chest.

“You’re real people, Fred.” She spoke in a tone that Fred always found to be relaxing. “You’ll be okay over there.”

“Thanks, Pen.” He reached up and gave her hand a squeeze before the two followed Mary inside. The girls headed for the kitchen and Fred went looking for FP.

It didn’t take long before Fred found him sitting in the living room. Alice was stretched across his lap in an armchair, one of her arms wrapped loosely around his neck. His stomach gave a sudden lurch. He hadn’t thought about them together since they were sophomores in high school. He hadn’t thought about how jealous he used to get when they would make out at parties or hold hands in the hallway. That she _could_ do those things with him.

“Heeey.” FP smiled as Fred approached. “Where have you been?”

“Talking to Mary and Penelope.” Fred stood awkwardly next to the chair. “Seems like you two are having a good time…”

“We’re trying to not forget…to remember to forget.” Alice laughed as she held up a shot towards Fred. “Join us.”

He didn’t hesitate as he grabbed the drink and downed it in a hearty swallow. FP reached up and clasped a hand on Fred’s shoulder. “Atta boy.”

“You’re both loaded.”

“Oh, lighten up, Fred.” Alice laughed as she wrapped both arms around FP and leaned into him. Fred instantly tensed. The seed of jealousy that was uprooted when Alice had started dating Hal was beginning to sprout inside Fred’s mind once again. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. He had to get out of there.

“Hey, wait. Where are you going?” FP had followed him to the entryway.

“I don’t…” Fred shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it here.”

“Did I do something wrong?” He whispered in a low voice that only exaggerated the smell of whiskey and cigarettes on his breath.

“Did you do something wrong?” Fred echoed. “Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t know how to answer that, but we can’t talk about this right now. Not here.”

“Okay.” FP nodded. “Not here.”

Realizing that he wasn’t going to walk away without an answer, Fred pulled FP into the closest room. “Do you mind?”

Tom took Sierra’s hand and guided her back into the hallway as Fred shut the door behind them.

FP sat down on the bed with a hearty _umph_ , as Fred stood in front of him. “What’s going on, Freddie?”

“I feel like I’m losing it, F. This entire night. Hearing Hermione talk like that. Seeing her crying. They all think we’re going to die. Do you realize that?”

“We’re not.”

“You don’t know that.” Fred shook his head. “And then seeing you and Alice again. It just…you know, you don’t have to do this…you don’t have to go to with me. Your number isn’t going to be called until at least next fall…maybe later…you can stay here.” Fred ran a hand threw his hair. His stupid hair that they were going to shave off.  “I mean what the hell is going on tonight?”

“We’re trying to forget.”

Fred scoffed. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“She just found out Hal won’t get time off until next year.”

“Oh.” Fred stopped pacing. “Is she…upset by that?”

“Of course.” FP nodded as he leaned back onto the bed. “Devastated.”

Fred plopped down next to him. “I…you two just seemed pretty close in there.”

“She would never cheat on Hal.” FP sat up; a smile slowly spread across his face. “Besides - she’s a pretty girl but not really my type.”

“What is your type?”

“Junior year wasn’t that long ago, Fred.” He smiled twisting the end of one of Fred’s curls “I still prefer long haired brunettes.”

It had happened after a basketball game. They blamed it on the heat of the win but if they were honest with themselves, things had been building up to that moment in the locker room for years. The stolen glances and lingering touches, they only satiated someone for so long. Trying to rationalize what they wanted, the sinful nature of their infatuation. That hot infested summer spending every moment together. The realization of all they couldn’t have.

“FP, what if this doesn’t work?” The lump in Fred’s throat only gave him a seconds warning before he felt his eyes begin to tear.

“It will.” He placed a hand on Fred’s leg. “You’re not going there without me. Even if we’re in different units. I’ll be there with you. I will always be there with you.”

“You’re blitzed.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.” FP wanted nothing more than to hold Fred in his arms, but he couldn’t risk it. Not when half of their graduating class was only separated by drywall and plywood. There was lust and love, and then there was what the two of them had together.

_A different town, a different time, a different life_. FP thought to himself as his hand lingered on Fred’s leg.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for joining me on this roller coaster. This is an idea that I've been playing with for awhile because I love a historical AU. Shout out to Julia (ao3: jugheadjones) for being my soundboard for a lot of these ideas and for indulging me in all my Parentdale headcanons. There are a lot of characters and a lot of relationships in this story. I don't want to give anything away, but if you've come for something specific, it might be awhile before you see it and it could be just a fleeting moment. The characters from this chapter will be the core group throughout the entirety of this story. 
> 
> This is my first Parentdale story, so feedback is greatly appreciated.


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